


The Joy and Life Inside Our Souls

by palateens



Series: OMGCP Valentines 2017 [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Ransom drops out of med school and does the next best thing- becomes a professional piercer.OrThe one where Holster thinks musicals are the best form of seduction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fooiinne

Growing up, Ransom’s life was dictated for him. It hadn’t been intentional. The thought of planning gave him hives. So when his mom said why not be a doctor like your auntie, Ransom nodded dutifully. When his sister took up pottery for a week, he took it upon himself to take the rest of her classes at the community center by their house. When four of his cousins joined a local hockey league, Ransom followed suit. His family led him through a myriad of phases and interests.

At the end of the day, some of their ideas were truly inspired. Hockey, for instance, got him a student visa and a scholarship to Samwell. That’s where he met his best friends Lardo, Bitty and Chowder. He was also close to their goalie, Johnson. Mostly that was because he understood how to give Ransom a wide birth around exam time.

“Can’t let you drop out of college from stress,” Johnson chirped once.

Something about his comment rang true six months into his stint at med school. Sure, he graduated Samwell with a degree in Biology with a 4.0 while playing on the ECAC’s best team. He knew he was capable and intelligent, even when his friends had to remind him.

And he knew himself. He could see his future, graduating top of his class from fucking Harvard; specializing in pediatric epilepsy and eventually heading the American Epilepsy Society. Justin Oluransi could go down in medical history if he set his mind to it. And yet, he ended up locked in a supply closet after a particularly brutal exam. It didn’t matter how hard he studied or how well he did because he couldn’t reconcile success with happiness anymore.

Ransom was fed up with his rat race lifestyle. Which is how he swiftly dropped out of med school and ran away to Providence, Rhode Island to live with Lardo and Bitty. They’d moved down a year or so back to open their own tattoo parlor called Bits. They’d done pretty well for themselves so far. If he was honest with himself, he’d been low key jealous of them in college as they racked up tattoo after tattoo. No one wanted a physician that was more inked than them. Which is a shame because he really wanted to get a caduceus tattoo.

“So then get it,” Lardo rolled her eyes when he said as much.

He’d taken to helping around the parlor, sweeping and playing receptionist when everyone else was busy. The parlor itself was nice. The dark laminate flooring matched the grunge vibe of the vaulted ceilings; and the aesthetic of the tattoo samples that adorned its crisp blue walls.   

He starred at her quizzically. “But doesn’t that seem a little ironic? Getting a caduceus after I quit med school?”

“Becoming a doctor was a big part of your life,” she reasons with a shrug. “It’s like acknowledging a chapter of your story.”

“Wasn’t Hermes hella smart too?” Nursey, a guy who works out of Bits from time to time, supplies. “He tricks gods for himself or the good of humanity. That could still be you, dude.”

“Huh, I like that,” Ransom hums thoughtfully.

Which is how he gets his first tattoo. He thinks they’re both right. It symbolizes a part of who he thought he was and who he could still be. He misses the needles and is fascinated by the strict health codes Bits employees abide by. It hits him a few weeks into bumming it on Bitty and Lardo’s couch in their apartment above the shop—piercings. He discusses it with Lardo and Bitty who agree it’d be nice to have a piercer around when their swamped with appointments.

He gets his license and apprentices under Bitty for a while. In the meantime, he picks up some shifts from the café down the street where Nursey and Chowder work to pay back Lardo and Bitty for their hospitality. He expects a big fuss from Bitty. Instead, Bitty tells him put it in the tips jar and they’ll put it towards their renovations. His first piercings are angel bites, followed by standard lobe piercings. There’s something poetic about having a god on your shoulder and an angel kissing you, or so Nursey tells him one afternoon as his coworker Dex yells at him to get back to work.

Ransom becomes a quick favorite among customers. His bed side manner is still top notch and he talks through each piercing with his clients. He chats them up and never talks them down. He gets a lot of repeat customers, especially as he adds to his own collection of tattoos and piercings.

He’s working as a full-time employee for a month when he hears about the landlord for the first time. Or rather, he hears someone singing at the top of their lungs.

_It’s a bitch of a living asking ‘what went wrong?’_

The words sounded vaguely familiar, that bothered him.

“You just missed Holster,” Bitty laments when he gets done with his appointment.

“Holster?”

“He owns this building and most of the block,” Lardo informs him. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t seen him around the café. He’s freakishly tall, like two inches taller than you.”

Ransom whistles lowly. “What’s his deal?”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Bitty assures him excitedly. “Such a gentleman and he’s normally great company. He just got out of long term relationship.”

“And you’re telling me this because…”

“He’s cute, bi, swawesome and DTF,” Nursey offers  

“Thank fuck, I’m over listening to him cry to lyrics from _If/Then_ ,” Dex grimaces, handing Nursey a to go cup.

“Thanks babe,” Nursey pecks his cheek.

And now Ransom understands that Nursey and Dex, against all their bickering, are attached at the hip.

“Fair warning,” Nursey pulls him away from his musings, “Broadway is sort of his _thing_.”

“Theater buff, ok,” Ransom thinks out loud.

“No, a theater buff would be if he knew every nominee for the Tony’s,” Dex snorts. “No Holster _communicates_ by singing showtunes. Like all the time.” 

Ransom shrugs, “I don’t know the guy. Who knows if we’ll even get along.”

“True,” Bitty frowns, “but remember he’s our landlord. Don’t go pushing his buttons too much.”

He goes about his business, taking appointments and shooting the breeze with other employees from the surrounding shops. He’s been lobbying for Kent, the bar owner, to start a trivia night; so he, Bits and Lardo can wipe the floor with everyone. He ignores Bitty and Nursey’s attempts to set him up with Holster. Nothing against the guy, but they’re trying too hard. And as nice as this guy sounds, he’d rather find out for himself instead of his friends over hyping this poor dude.

 Part of Ransom doesn’t believe that Holster really sings everything. That is, until he goes out with the gang to Georgia’s Latin club two weeks later. He’s waiting at the bar for a drink and out of nowhere he feels someone poking his shoulder. He looks over to the most beautiful man with perfect blue eyes tilting his head slightly down to meet Ransom’s gaze and—fuck. He’s gorgeous and Ransom can only hope this is Holster, because he’s seen the previews and he’s sold. The guy’s opening his mouth and he can tell by the smirk in his eyes that he’s about to get some moves put on him when—

“Bartender! Let me get an amaretto sour for this ghetto flower! How are you so pretty? You complete me. You had me at ‘hello’. You know you need me.”

Ransom’s jaw drops. There’s no doubt in Ransom’s mind that this is Holster. Truth be told, he up to par on some musicals and his mind wracks, searching for the right song in the right musical and for the right retort. Because damn, this boy is hard core and exactly the type of interesting he’s been waiting for. But he’s not one to back down from an obvious challenge. He needs to outmatch him.

Holster, though, is apparently not done. “Truly, madly, deeply, let’s get freaky.”

Ransom quirks an eyebrow, smirking bemusedly at the man.

“Oh, I get it you’re the strong and silent type. Well, I’m the New Yorker Jewish type and I can drive you wild all night! But I digress! Say something so I don’t stress!”

Ransom smiles slyly, taking the drink Holster’s ordered. He winks, “no hablo ingles.” He saunters away, not looking back.  

Fifteen minutes later, Dex comes over to where Ransom’s talking with Chowder’s girlfriend, Caitlin.

“I think you broke Holster,” he informs Ransom. “He’s been gawking at you forever. What’d you say to him?”

“He was picking me up with something from _In the Heights_. I just…flirted back with the next line.”

“I told him to close his jaw and come say hi like a normal person,” Lardo “but knowing him he’ll probably do something dumb tomorrow.”

Something dumb turns out to be walking by Bits every hour until Ransom’s manning the register. Holster all but runs into the door. And if Ransom wasn’t interested he’d yell at him for property damage. Then again, he does own the building.

““You walked in and my heart went 'Boom',” Holster sings.

Ransom crinkles his nose. “You walked in.”  

 “I'm a trust fund baby you can trust me,” he counters.

“Good to know,” Ransom snorts. “May I help you with something?”

“Let me interject some. The way you sweat, the way you flex on the dance floor. It makes me want you more,” Holster tries.

For that, Ransom chuckles.

Holster balks at him, “so you know _In the Heights_ but I get nothing for _Hamilton_?”

“So you do know how to speak,” Ransom laughs. “What can I do for you?”

“You could start with a date,” Holster smiles suggestively. “We could grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine.”

“You sing one more time and I’m going to need you to put some money in this jar,” Ransom points to the large tip jar that usually adorns the front desk.

“How much do I need to put in the jar?”

“A dollar,” Ransom deadpans. He doesn’t expect the guy to follow through, just to shut up.

“And how much gets me a date with you?”

“Fill it up and we’ll see,” he smirks.

Holster is halfway out the door when he calls out, “I think they meant it when they said you can’t buy love.”

And thus, began Holster’s campaign to get a date with Ransom. If it weren’t so amusing, and irksome, to listen to Holster sing almost non-stop, Ransom would ask him out sooner.

_We’ve done this all before. We were angels once, don’t you remember?_

“Fine,” Ransom hands him the tip jar.

_Look into your eyes and the sky's the limit I'm helpless._

“Fine.”

_This planet is pretty much broken beyond all repair. But one thing is working if you’re standing there._

“Fine.”

_If it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it._

“Fine!”

_Just slip me on, I’ll be your blanket._

“FINE!”

_I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face I have never been the same Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame And when you said “Hi,” I forgot my dang name Set my heart aflame, ev’ry part aflame._

“FOOINNE!”

_You strike me as a man who has never been satisfied._

“Yes,” Ransom smirks. “Oh and fine!”

_My life's gonna be fine cause Ransom's in it._

“Fine!”

When Holster actually spoke, Ransom really enjoyed the guy underneath. He was funny, considerate and charming. He was dramatic but also unassuming. Ransom realized he didn’t care if Holster sang or spoke or even mimed his over excitement. He just wanted to take whatever Holster had to dish out. Which is how he realized he had totally fallen for the blond.

“I believe this jar is completely full my dear Ransom,” Holster declares one day months later. “I believe I’m entitled to ask you out on a date. And I’m not throwing my shot.”  

“You are entitled but—”

 “Hey no, I’m not throwing away my shot,” he insists. “I’m not throwing away my shot.”

“Holster…”

“Hey yo, I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy and hungry. And I’m not throwing away my shot!”

“Someone us are trying to work!” Bitty shouts from a room in the back.

“Oh, am I talkin’ too loud? Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth.”

“While we’re talking, let me offer you some free advice,” Ransom quirks a brow at him.

“Talk less?”

“Or,” Ransom emphasizes, “maybe ask me if I want to get a drink after my shift.”

“Yea?” Holster looks cautiously optimistic.

“Yea,” Ransom smiles reassuringly.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Holtzy,” he pats the tip jar affectionately. “I think the least I can do is buy you a drink. Oh and I’m gonna need another dollar for that last bit.”

Later that night, when they’ve ditched everyone else and are watching 30 Rock on Holster’s bed, Ransom thinks this was worth the wait. He and Holster fit together perfectly.

“You know I’ve longed to discover something as true as this is,” Ransom whispers.

Holster, for his part, pulls Ransom in closer; kissing his temple, his cheek, his lips. “With a thousand sweet kisses, I’ll cover you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by [Zim-tits Tattoo AU](http://zim-tits.tumblr.com/tagged/tattoo_au) .  
> The title is from "No One Else" from the musical Natasha Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812.  
> Tbh, I really love this AU and I might bring it back for some more ships and Holsom angst.  
> Ransom deserves more characterization; so despite the sickening levels of fluff I hope you've enjoyed it.


End file.
